


What Foxes Want

by LadySlytherin



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blackmail, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Peter Hale & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Prompt Fill, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Tumblr Prompt, also, because I love Peter to pieces, oh well, wow that's a lot of tumblr tags that i didn't use on the other fics I tranferred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-19 11:53:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14236713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadySlytherin/pseuds/LadySlytherin
Summary: After Deaton gives Stiles the wolf lichen to temporarily subdue the nogitsune, instead of checking himself into Eichen House, Stiles does some research and comes up with a different solution to their fox problem.Prompts:Voiles + “That’s a good look for you.” + “Are you flirting with me?”





	What Foxes Want

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Firebull](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Firebull/gifts).



> This was my second attempt at Void/Stiles and I went in a very different direction than the first time. This was also an exercise in fixing what TPTB fucked up, regarding kitsune and their mythology/folklore. Which I had a lot of fun with, since mythology, theology, and folklore have always fascinated me.
> 
> Comments are love; leave me some! ❤️
> 
> ~ Sly

Stiles hugged his dad goodbye, standing in their driveway next to the cruiser. “I’ll be okay.” Stiles promised, tightening his arms briefly before stepping back and mustering the best smile he could. “Really. Everyone is working hard to figure this out, and we...we’re going to get through it.”

“I wish I didn’t have to go.” Noah was clutching a hospital-issue manila envelope that held Stiles’ MRI image disk and his other test results, which Noah was bringing to a specialist in LA.

It wasn’t that the Sheriff didn’t believe his son was possessed - he’d seen too much in the last year to doubt _anything_ at this point - but that didn’t mean that Stiles wasn’t _also_ sick. And Noah had to be sure, because he’d lost Claudia and he wanted to be damned sure he wasn’t going to lose Stiles, too. So he’d go see the specialist, and get a second opinion on the damned scans and tests, and pray it was just the damned thing possessing his son fucking with them all. Which, he had to admit, was a pretty fucked up thing to be hoping for. But Stiles and his friends had faced down killer werewolves - on more than one occasion - and werewolf _hunters_ and a crazed witch-druid-darach _thing_ and whatever the fuck a _kanima_ was. So maybe a fox spirit wouldn’t be so bad.

It couldn't be worse than slowly losing his only child the way he’d lost his wife, anyway.

Stiles watched from the front steps as Noah got into the cruiser and pulled away. Then, he straightened his spine and narrowed his eyes...and made a choice.

~*~*~*~

“I need to speak to you.” Stiles nudged the beta werewolf back and stepped into the loft. He had a feeling Peter was only letting him in because he wasn’t certain whether he was dealing with Stiles...or the Nogitsune. Which he figured was fair, and he’d take whatever he could get if it meant getting done what he needed to get done.

“And what, pray tell, could we possibly have to discuss?” Peter asked, all casual disdain and amusement as he sank onto the couch and watched Stiles with sharp blue eyes.

Stiles took a slow, measured breath - because repaying Peter’s dickish behavior in equal measure was satisfying in its own way, but it wasn’t going to help him get what he needed - and did his best to contain his restlessness to a few finger-twitches and some general fidgeting, despite how much he wanted to pace. “I need some things, and I’m betting you can get them for me.”

Peter’s eyes flicked down to Stiles’ twitching hands, then the alert set of his shoulders relaxed and he smiled benignly up at the teen. “And why should I help you, Stiles?”

“Because if you don’t, I’m pretty sure the fucker currently knocked out somewhere inside my skin is going to kill everyone. Including you.” Stiles tipped his head to the side, adding. “And because you told me once that you liked me. That you wished you’d bitten me, not Scott, because I would have been the more valuable pack member. I don’t think that admiration or fondness has faded, and I don’t think you want to see me lost. So, you’re going to help me.”

Peter smirked, and nodded to the spot beside him on the couch. “What do you need?”

Stiles sank gratefully down on the cushion, pulling out his list.

~*~*~*~

In the end, Stiles wound up having to get help from more than just Peter. Not because he particularly wanted a lot of people involved, but because delegation of tasks meant accomplishing things with a quicker speed than what would have otherwise been possible. And Stiles didn’t exactly have a lot of time. The lichen Deaton had injected him with to subdue the Nogitsune was only temporary and - as the slowly fading Lichtenberg figure on his shoulder and back proved - the effects wouldn’t last long at all.

Peter took over the _most important_ task by himself, purely because Stiles refused to trust anyone else with it. Not that he trusted Peter, exactly, but he trusted himself to be able to predict Peter’s machinations, anyway. But there were other things that had to be done; things Stiles needed help with. He enlisted Kira to get him the food-items he needed, assuming - correctly, as it turned out - that her kitchen would have everything on-hand. The upside to having a Japanese classmate. Kira had looked at him funny when he gave his request - when he said he had a plan and that was what he needed from her - but she’d gotten him what he’d asked for.

Lydia had been enlisted to track down a Shinto exorcism ritual, which she’d done fairly quickly. Chris had been asked to find a Shinto _priest,_ and keep the man on-call. _Kitsunetsuki_ wasn’t exactly common - and it was rarely heard of outside of Japan - but it wasn’t as though there weren’t recorded cases of it. Stiles was a little annoyed with how impossible Scott and Deaton had made it seem to deal with. It hadn’t taken him more than five minutes on google to find _multiple_ ways to handle things. It was actually kind of infuriating, because if Stiles hadn’t been the one possessed he was certain they’d have gotten everything sorted out _before_ anyone had been killed. But with his brain not working at full capacity - possession took its toll on the mind, after all - they’d been down by a _lot_ in the research department and that had cost them. It had cost them _big._

Still, Stiles had gotten to the solution eventually and that was about all anyone could ask for at this particular juncture. So he brushed aside the guilt, and the blame, and the _what-ifs_ in favor of handling business. So long as Peter managed _his_ end of things, this would be quick and easy. If Peter _failed..._

Well, that was what the priest was for.

~*~*~*~

Stiles stirred the tea he’d made anxiously. The Lichtenberg figure on his shoulder was nearly gone. Peter was watching him shrewdly from the other side of the sofa.

“If you’re going to drink it, _drink it.”_ Peter finally said, because Stiles had been stirring and stirring _and stirring_ for an extended number of minutes and it was becoming a bit much, really. “If you’d rather sit here and stare at each other until the damned lichen wears off and you become Void again _that way,_ then by all means, we can do that, too. But if that’s the case, put down the tea because the sound of you stirring is driving me insane.”

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” Stiles snarked under his breath, though he did still the spoon.

“Considering that the last time I went crazy, I went on a murderous rampage...” Peter shot Stiles a pointed look, complete with some serious eyebrow game - And what the hell, was that a genetic trait the Hales all shared? - then nodded towards the cup. “Just drink, Stiles. The sooner this is done, the better.”

Knowing he had no choice, Stiles raised the cup to his lips and took several quick drinks. The main ingredient was an herb known as _bitter-grass_ and it had been cut with Osmanthus flowers to help cull that sharp flavor. It wasn’t _great,_ but it could have been worse. The Osmanthus was also supposed to help protect Stiles’ brain from any damage the lucid-dream-inducing _bitter-grass_ might incur, which he’d decided was definitely worth trying to do. He managed another few mouthfuls, then set the cup on the coffee table with a shudder and laid down on Derek’s couch. Peter approached with a small syringe and Stiles wondered a little hazily where he’d gotten it from.

“I’m sure the extra amphetamines you’ve been taking the last couple of days have mostly worn off...” Peter murmured, and Stiles nodded because yeah, he was _definitely_ starting to crash now that the added doses of Adderall he’d taken to keep himself awake - to help ward off the Nogitsune’s repossession - were clearing his system. He doubted he’d pass out for another couple of hours, but he certainly wasn’t firing on all cylinders anymore.

“Well, this - it’s Haldol, by the way - will just...speed that up a bit.” Peter waved the syringe in his face for a moment before continuing. “I can give you this in your arm, supposedly, but I’ll be honest here, Stiles. I’m not a hundred percent sure I can get it in the right spot.”

“What would be easier than my arm?” Stiles asked, eyes locked on the needle part of the syringe.

“Your ass.” Peter admitted, and Stiles groaned a little in annoyance. Because the stupid syringe contained a drug meant for intramuscular injection and the easiest place for an inexperienced person to give it _was_ his butt cheek, and Stiles _really_ didn’t want to give Peter a solid reason to look at _and_ touch his ass...but he also didn’t want Peter to fuck up where he was sticking him.

Stiles wracked his brain for all of the late-night internet searches and research spirals he’d gotten sucked into, finally unbuttoning his jeans and shoving them - and his boxers - down enough to reveal his left hip and the top bit of his thigh. “Here..” He grumbled, grabbing Peter’s left hand; the one not holding the syringe.

He placed the heel of Peter’s hand on the uppermost part of his outer thigh, where it met the muscles in his left butt cheek. Peter’s fingers were pointed up, towards Stiles’ head and he gritted out. “Shift your thumb so it’s pointed towards my crotch.”

“This is not how I expected this to go.” Peter said, though he sounded amused more than anything else. He obeyed Stiles, though, and that was the important thing. “Now what?”

“Form a V with your fingers, separating your index finger from the other three.” Stiles said. When he felt Peter obey, he asked. “Can you feel the bone along the tips of your ring and pinky fingers?”

Peter hummed his affirmation and Stiles blew out a nervous breath. “Okay, just...the needle goes in the middle of the V you just formed. Try not to miss, okay?”

“I’ll do my best.” Peter agreed. And, before Stiles could snark back at him, he felt the sharp bite of the needle piercing his skin and the slight pressure that accompanied the push of the syringe’s plunger.

The drug didn’t take long at all, and before Stiles knew it he was slipping into unconsciousness.

~*~*~*~

Stiles opened his eyes to see the inside of a locker. This wasn’t exactly an unfamiliar dream, though that didn’t make it comfortable. He could hear the Nogitsune snarling on the other side of things, demanding he let it in, and Stiles knew he was going to have to. First, though...

Closing his eyes, he brought to mind the white garage-like room he’d been in after he and Scott and Allison had sacrificed themselves to the Nemeton, complete with the Nemeton’s stump. When he opened his eyes again, he was sitting cross-legged on top of the stump, and the Nogitsune - bandaged hands and face, leather bomber jacket, gleaming silver fangs - was across from him. It was studying him, it seemed; its head was tipped curiously to one side, anyway. Stiles took that to be a good sign. Foxes were naturally curious. By doing something unpredictable, Stiles had captured its attention.

“So.” Stiles managed a stiff smile, though he wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t going to throw up from nerves. “I have a proposition to make. But...I can’t make it from in here. I can’t make it when I’m out there, either, because if _I_ am, then you _aren’t.”_

“And what do you suggest we do to remedy that?” The Nogitsune rasped in its hissed, snarling, raspy way.

Stiles shrugged, more than nervous now. It was taking everything in him not to just... _run._ Which was stupid because he couldn't run anywhere at the moment, but the urge was still there. “I have someone out there who’s going to make the offer for me. Which means letting you in, so you can go hear it. But I have to ask you to promise that you’ll listen. That you’ll consider it.”

He could practically feel the surprise radiating off the Nogitsune, and Stiles looked up, adding softly. “I know you’re a trickster, but kitsune - even _void_ kitsune - keep their promises. So, if I let you in...will you listen and consider before you refuse?”

“I will.” The Nogitsune inclined its head.

Stiles took in a trembling breath and squeezed his eyes shut, then whispered. “Okay. You can come in.”

~*~*~*~

Peter watched as Stiles sat up. That pale, pointed face turned to look at him and those golden eyes were dark and fathomless. _‘Not Stiles, then.’_ Peter thought. _‘Show time.’_

“Stiles says you have a proposition for me.” The Nogitsune smirked, and Peter understood why the thing was called _Void._

“I do, though it’s Stiles’ proposition rather than my own.” Peter gestured to the food laid out on the coffee table, adding. “Please, help yourself.”

Void’s eyes widened, and he immediately started tasting various things. Peter knew what everything laid out was, though he didn’t particularly like most of it. But then, tofu had never been his thing. There was inarizushi, and inari maki. There was udon noodle soup with aburaage. There was azukimeshi. Peter sat back in the recliner, waiting patiently as Void ate. Stiles had assured him that kitsune had _very_ large appetites, and had made it clear that Peter wasn’t to rush Void. So he didn’t. He simply waited, and watched, and wondered if Stiles’ plan would actually work or if he’d be calling in the Shinto priest to perform an exorcism.

Long minutes later, Void finally seemed content and full. He licked his fingers, humming happily, and turned too-dark eyes on Peter with a much less hostile air than Peter had expected. Everyone who’d encountered Void so far had stressed that, as soon as the kitsune stopped pretending to be Stiles, the air of hostility and destruction it gave off was palpable. This, though...this seemed pleased and patient and curious. But then, Peter imagined a bit of good food put _most_ beings in a better mood.

“Stiles wants his body back.” Peter didn’t bother with subtlety or lead-ins; he didn’t see the point. “He didn’t ask for kitsunetsuki, and no one _else_ asked for you to possess him. You’re certainly old enough to take human form on your own, so you don’t _need_ to hitch a ride in his skin. At least, not now that you’ve had a chance to charge your batteries.”

Void nodded slowly, a thoughtful look on Stiles’ face. “True. I don’t _need_ to wear him anymore. I can easily separate us and take on a human form on my own. But...I don’t see why that matters. I’ve been enjoying myself.”

Peter hummed agreeably, because it was a valid point and that deserved to be acknowledged. “Understood. Stiles assumes you’ve been offended in some way, and we completely understand your desire to seek retribution for whatever slight you received. But _Stiles_ didn’t offend you, and he’s the one who’s being punished the most here. I know you’re a trickster, but kitsune are fair. Their tricks are played on those who deserve them. _Stiles_ has done nothing to deserve it. He’s responsible for the meal you just ate; his attempt to appease you so that you’ll leave him peaceably.”

“And if I refuse?”

Peter tapped the wooden triskele box resting on his lap. “Well, then, we’ll have to bring out another bargaining chip, won’t we?” Peter twisted the lid off the box, flashing the contents at Void before closing it again quickly even as rage washed across Void’s face. “So, about you leaving...”

The next few minutes passed in a haze of Void screaming, and cursing, and raging at Peter. Peter waited, face impassive and hands snug around the small box. He had all of the power here, and Void knew it. The anger was expected, and it was also harmless. Peter let it roll off of him like water off a duck’s back. Void would calm down eventually, and until he did there was nothing for Peter to say or do.

Finally, Void gave him a pleading look. His dark, dark eyes were gleaming with tears born of frustration and anger and fear. “Please...” He managed, voice breaking just a bit at the edges of his words. _“Please,_ sir. It’s no good to you, is it? You can’t do a thing with it. Just...give it back, won’t you?”

“Leave him.” Peter said, voice pleasant but undeniably firm. “As soon as you’re in a separate body - your _own_ body, not possessing someone else - Stiles will happily return it.”

“Okay.” Void nodded quickly, without hesitation. “Okay, _okay._ I...I’ll do it. Just...don’t lose it. This isn’t exactly an instantaneous thing. It’s a _process.”_

Peter waved one hand indulgently. “By all means; take your time.”

~*~*~*~

Peter...really wished he hadn’t _watched_ as Void left Stiles and made a new body. It was disturbing, and gross, and looked highly unsanitary. But he’d promised Stiles he wouldn’t leave the kitsune unattended. Still, if he’d known how awful it was going to be, he’d have at least shut his eyes. Hindsight and all of that.

In the end, he was left staring at a bandage-wrapped Nogitsune in a leather bomber jacket...and an unconscious Stiles, slumped over beside it on the couch. “He’ll wake up soon.” Void said, in a voice that sounded odd and echoey and like both a snarl and a hiss at the same time. Peter just nodded.

~*~*~*~

Stiles woke up all at once; the way someone woke up from a nightmare. He gasped loudly and sat bolt-upright, eyes wide and body trembling. Peter was at his side a moment later, one hand curled securely around the triskele box and the other checking Stiles over. First he pressed fingers to Stiles’ throat, checking his pulse. Then his fingers grasped Stiles’ chin, tipping his face so he could look at Stiles’ eyes. Stiles’ skin was cool and sweaty. His mind was a little hazy but clearing rapidly. His heartbeat was fast and wild but steady. He met Peter’s eyes and tried to convey that he was feeling unsettled but not _unwell._ It seemed to work, because the tense lines of Peter’s face smoothed out and he pressed the triskele box into Stiles’ hands.

“My part is done.” Peter told him, nodding towards the kitsune setting on the other end of the couch and then towards the door to Derek’s loft. “I’m going to head out. If you need anything else...do me a favor and ask Scott or Derek. I’ve done enough good deeds lately.”

Stiles snorted and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, okay. You know you love me.” Peter simply raised an eyebrow and Stiles outright laughed before waving him towards the door. “See you around, Zombie-wolf.”

“Goodbye, Stiles.” Peter said dryly, heading towards the door.

When Peter was gone, Stiles turned to stare at the bandaged, fanged kitsune sitting next to him. “So...you’re kind of conspicuous like that. Aren’t you a shapeshifter? I’m sure you can pick something better.”

Without speaking, Void reached up and began pulling at the bandages, pushing and shoving them off until he revealed a face. _Stiles’ face._ Or...well, sort of. It was his face, undeniably. Side-by-side, he was certain they’d look like twins. But there were small differences. Void’s eyes were a little bit closer together, his eyebrows were a tiny bit thinner, his face was somehow narrower, and his cheekbones were just a smidge higher. The changes were nothing big; nothing overtly noticeable unless you were really _looking_ for them. But Stiles knew his own face well enough to pick them out right away. And the effect was strange; the way this kitsune managed to look like him and _not_ like him at the same time.

“So...” Stiles hesitated for a moment, unsure how this was supposed to go or what he was supposed to say now. He finally settled on the first - _completely stupid_ \- thing his brain came up with. “That’s a good look for you.”

Void stared at him for a moment, then a smirk curved those full lips. It tipped its head to the side and asked coyly, in a voice that was _almost_ Stiles’ voice but not. “Are you flirting with me?”

“I...wh-uh...n-no!” Stiles stammered, because _holy shit_ wouldn’t that be the height of arrogance? To flirt with someone - some _thing_ \- that looked like himself. “I just...it’s better than the bandages, right? I mean, _anything_ is better than the bandages. But, uh...don’t you have a form that’s, like... _you?”_

Void shrugged, its face and form twisting briefly into that of a young Asian woman; one who looked like she could be Kira’s sister or cousin. It shifted back into the Stiles-like form almost immediately. “I suppose that was the closest to being _me._ But I’ve always prefered taking a male shape. It’s why I didn’t inhabit Noshiko when she called for me, you know. Does it bother you? Me borrowing your face, I mean.”

“Not really?” Stiles shrugged, because it really didn’t. “I mean, as long as you aren’t going to go on another murderous rampage, at least. Because if you’re doing _that,_ I’d definitely prefer you weren’t wearing my face at the time. Though I’d really prefer you weren’t doing it at all.” After a moment’s pause, he added. “Who’s Noshiko?”

“Kira’s mother.” Void explained, and Stiles startled a little at that. “She called for me to enact revenge on those who had hurt her and killed her lover. She _begged_ for me to rain down chaos and death. When I did, she killed the body I’d taken and trapped me beneath the Nemeton.”

Stiles stared at Void in shock, puzzle pieces clicking together suddenly. “That’s what offended you. She asked for a favor and then punished you for granting it.”

“Yes.” Void tipped its head, studying Stiles closely. “Am I allowed to continue to seek retribution from her? If I don’t go on a killing spree, I mean.”

Stiles hesitated, considering his options. Finally, he said. “Kira doesn’t know any of this. She doesn’t understand how she’s a kitsune, or what her mother’s part in all of this is. She’s confused, and hurt, and I think...I think if you told her everything you know...I think she’d probably never trust Noshiko again. I think she’d be furious over being lied to...and I think that relationship would take a very long time to mend. Would that be retribution enough?”

Void nodded slowly. “It would. I’ll be allowed to do that?” Stiles made an agreeable noise, and Void held out a hand to him, looking suddenly pleading. “And my ball?”

“Oh!” Stiles had forgotten the box he held, and its contents. He popped the lid off, taking out the onion-shaped ball, which glowed softly with a golden-white light - with _foxfire_ \- and placed it carefully into Void’s hand. “I’m sorry we had to resort to that, but I wasn’t sure how else to make you listen.”

Void cradled the _hoshi no tama_ close to his chest, cooing softly at it. Then he shot Stiles a small smile. “I understand. I would have done the same, in your position.”

Suddenly the ball vanished and Stiles blinked, wondering where Void had stashed it. He cleared his throat, then asked curiously. “So...how old are you, anyway?”

“Over a thousand years.” Void told him, seeming much more relaxed now that his _hoshi no tama_ had been returned to him. “Noshiko is only about nine hundred, and the fact that I was bested by her was a bit grating. Though she had a mongrel wolf on her side, so that factors in as well.” He pulled a face, adding. “I never liked dogs, and you had one _negotiating_ with me.”

“Desperate times...” Stiles admitted, laughing softly. “I don’t like Peter much either, but he’s the best negotiator I know and he’s damned good at getting what he wants, no matter what.” After a moment of hesitation, he asked. “If you’re a thousand, then...are you...”

“Am I...?”

“I think the word is _Tenko.”_ Stiles said. “Celestial, right? Nine-tailed and a thousand years old...that turns your fox golden and makes you Tenko. Or are you not, because you started out as a void kitsune?”

“Still celestial.” Void admitted, looking a little put-out. “Not a lot of nogitsune make it that long; we’re the most-likely to be killed. But I am what I am.”

Stiles nodded again, not sure what else to say. “So that’s why you were so hard for us to fight, then. And why you had so little trouble with the Oni.” Void shrugged, and Stiles cleared his throat awkwardly. “So, after you tell Kira about her mom...are you going to leave?”

Void turned his head, studying Stiles for a moment. Then his dark eyes took on a wicked gleam and he smirked in a way that could only be called flirtatious. “Oh, I think I could be _persuaded_ to stay, Stiles.”

Stiles swallowed hard, feeling his face heat up with a blush. Void laughed, clearly delighted, and Stiles ducked his head a little. “I, uh...I mean, I just...that wasn’t what I _meant,_ I just...I was...”

“Hush, little one.” Void chided, and when Stiles looked up he was nearly nose-to-nose with the fox. “I wouldn’t mind staying with you for a bit.” He promised, a real smile curving his lips. “You bested me, but in a clever way. I like that.”

Stiles startled a little when Void brushed their lips together. Before he could react, Void was standing and stretching, lanky body shifting under the bomber jacket and jeans. “Come on then, Stiles. Take me to Kira so I can get my retribution. Then...” He shot Stiles another flirtatious smile and a little wink. “Well, then we’ll just have to see, won’t we?”

Stiles got up, too. And if a huge grin was curving his lips, well...that was no one’s business but his.

_**~ End ~** _


End file.
